Of Mounties and Miracles
by XtinethePirate
Summary: Christmas Eve is a time for goodwill towards man and for miracles to happen. Well, Fraser has the first one covered, leaving a lonely Detective to pray for the latter.Rated for mild shonenai and language


January 6, 2005

This is the fourth Due South idea I've had, the second one to be written, though I'll probably finish it before the first one is completed. Would that make this one the first one, then? So confusing. Anyhow, I blame this overload on Xmas vacation, too much homework (with no incentive to do it), and season 3 of Due South arriving in the mail, prompting a revisiting of the series from the _very beginning_.

Enough rambling. Hope you like the story, if you do, please leave a review, if you don't, please don't. Flaming is _so_ Un-Canadian.

**Author's Note**: story contains Ray Vecchio x Benton Fraser. Nothing graphic, but it's there, so if you don't care for that, please do not read this. Thank you.

Of Mounties and Miracles. 

Ray slammed the door of his Riviera, stormed up the stairs to his house, and, taking a moment to examine the lurid wreath adorning it, slammed the front door for good measure.

"Well, aren't _we _in a good mood this evening?" Francesca noted sarcastically, stretching precariously from her position on a footstool in an effort to hang a clump of mistletoe.

Ray eyed the clump of white berries with dislike. "Look, Frannie, Benny's not here, he's not coming, so you can stop hanging that stupid stuff all over the damn place."

"Not coming?" Francesca wobbled dangerously, almost losing her balance. "Oh, Ray, what did you do _this_ time?"

"Hey," Ray held up his hands in a gesture of self-defense, "is it _my_ fault that he happens to be the most irritating man in the world? Of course not."

"You're just…too…inflexible…there!" Francesca awkwardly stepped down, losing her balance and stumbling as one high heel caught on the bottom step. Ray caught her quickly, with a resigned sigh.

"I am not inflexible, Frannie, _he's_ the one who always _has_ to be right, in every situation." Ray set his sister back on her feet, scowling. "And the worst part is, he doesn't even realize that he's _doing_ it!"

Francesca waved one hand airily. "What does it matter, so long as you catch the guy? At least, that's how _I_ see it, but maybe it takes a woman's logic –"

"It _matters_, Francesca, in that I don't really _like_ having a gun to my head, when I know my partner is just going to start babbling about some obscure Inuit ritual, all right?" Ray shrugged out of his coat, draping it over one arm as he continued to rant. "And then, just when things couldn't get any _worse_, _he_ ends up being the one who gets shot, so he looks like the good-"

"Oh my God!" Francesca gasped, clinging to Ray's arm. "Fraser was shot? Is he ok? Is he at the hospital? Oh, God, I should go and check on –"

"Hello? Who is your brother here? Can I have a little sisterly affection focused on _me_, if you don't mind? _I_ am the injured party in this situation – "

"But if Fraser's hurt, then –"

"He was not hurt, Francesca, he was wearing a bullet-proof vest, and that damn wolf of his jumped on the guy, so the second shot went wide before he could be shot in the head…" Ray trailed off in exasperation. "This is _exactly_ what I'm talking about! I mean, could I get a _little_ appreciation around here? I'm the one with the gun to my head, Fraser's the one everybody worries about."

Francesca arched one perfect eyebrow. "Well, if you would _prefer_ that Benton got hurt, just to save your stupid pride…" she trailed off meaningfully, her tone implying that such a person was the lowest scum imaginable.

Ray shook his head in disgust, flinging his coat over the stair railing.

"Why don't you just stop pretending, Ray?" Francesca continued behind him. "It's not hard to tell."

Ray froze in his tracks. "What?"

"God, everybody at the station knows – Huey, Harding, Elaine – ma knows, _I_ know… even Fraser's probably figured it out, though for a smart guy, he can be a bit…slow on the uptake."

Ray didn't turn around, feeling his face flush. "What are you talking about, Francesca?"

"Oh come off it, Ray!" She laughed. "As much as you pretend to be irritated by Fraser, everybody can tell that he's your best friend!"

_Oh_. Ray instantly relaxed, turning with a half-smile and a shrug to his sister. "Yeah. Yeah, I guess you're right."

Francesca smiled, punching her thick-headed brother lightly on the shoulder. "You'd better get ready. Ma's gonna want to leave soon, it's already 10:30."

"Ah, crap." Ray looked hurriedly at his watch. He'd forgotten all about mass, he didn't usually work on Christmas Eve, after all. "Look, Frannie, will you cover for me? I gotta go."

"Ray!" Francesca looked scandalized. "It's Christmas Eve! Ma's never gonna forgive you if you skip mass…"

"I know, I know. But look at it this way: here I am, luckiest guy in the world, get to spend Christmas Eve with my wonderful mom, and my two gorgeous sisters –"

"Hey, what about me?" Lou demanded from the landing at the top of the stairs, where he was brushing his teeth.

"Shut up." Ray snapped as Frannie yelled "Oh _please_!"

"Go on" she motioned for her brother to continue.

"Well, now think about poor Benny. You've seen that guy's apartment. Now picture it, on Christmas Eve, all alone except for his wolf, too polite to accept an invitation to spend Christmas with your best friends' family, possibly out of fear of a certain sister…"

"Shut up." Francesca retorted, but smiled as she said it. Ray smirked inwardly; he'd got her now, appealing to her sympathetic nature – amplified, of course, by all things related to Fraser. "All right, all right, but only if you're back before we are, and _only_," her smile turned decidedly wicked, causing Ray's inner gloating to grind to a halt, "_only_ if I get to drive your car."

"My car?" That was just a low blow. That was something _sacred_. Ray tried to picture his Italian relatives squished into his precious Riviera, with his sister behind the wheel. A chill shuddered down his spine. The image was all too graphic. "What's wrong with your car?"

Francesca smiled sweetly, then turned and yelled up the stairs. "Hey ma! Ray says he's gonna skip out on-!"

"Ok ok!" Ray made a shushing gesture with his hands, and tossed her the keys. "I'll walk."

ooooooo

Fraser sat on the edge of his bed, head bent, staring blankly at the pages of his father's journal.

Dec. 2.

Tracked the killer up into the pass. It was, as Buck delighted in telling me later, a stupid idea. I had seen the clouds forming all day and I should have realized… he was_ not_ the most irritating person in the world, whatever Ray said. How would Ray know, anyways? He hadn't met every single person in the world, so his assessment was positively groundless. It's not as if he _tried_ to be irritating, there wasn't a master plan of his to annoy Ray every single day of the year. He just seemed to have a …knack for doing so. That wasn't his fault.

At his feet, Diefenbaker whined quietly, nudging the leather cover of the journal with his nose to lick his master's hands.

Fraser glanced up at him. "No, you're wrong."

Dief cocked his head to one side.

Fraser sighed, glancing at the piece of paper, still crisply folded, that lay next to him on the bed. "It isn't running away, it's a transfer request. That's different."

The wolf barked once, sharply, clearly expressing his opinion of that justification.

"Well, no, it's not because of what Ray said today… I've been thinking about this for quite some time, and I've come to the realization that it would probably be better…" he trailed off, shaking his head as Dief rested his on his paws. "Oh why bother?" he grumbled, "you only care whether or not there will be potato chips where we're going."

With a sigh, he shrugged out of his suspenders, and unbuttoned his shirt, rubbing idly at his shoulder as he did so. He was glad Ray had insisted he wear the vest, but getting shot hurt all the same.

Gingerly laying back on the bed, he caught Dief's accusing gaze.

"Don't give me that look, you can take the bedroll. No, you see, I have been wounded, admittedly it's not life-threatening, but I think you would agree that I have earned the bed tonight."

Dief growled softly.

"No, of course you wouldn't, you're self-centred." Fraser lay back on the hard mattress, letting his eyes drift shut.

He'd apologize to Ray tomorrow morning.

ooooooo

Ray stamped his feet against the sidewalk, rubbing his hands together as he bounced up and down slightly in an effort to stay warm. How the _hell_ did the guy do it? He made the walk to his apartment sound like no big deal, but it had taken Ray over two hours to reach the dilapidated old building.

Yet another irritating aspect of Fraser's nature. In Chicago, you didn't walk, you drove, because if you were walking, you were either looking for a car to steal, or your car had just been stolen. It was that simple. As if the Christmas-ornament-bright uniform wasn't already an indication, Benny's insistence on walking everywhere only confirmed that he was not a local. Or an American, for that matter.

He knew he was stalling. Standing outside of a building in one of Chicago's worst neighbourhoods wasn't anything unusual, but usually that meant he was on a stakeout with lots of guys with guns backing him up. He was scared to go upstairs. Much as he hated to admit it, it was that simple. Not of the crumbling staircase – though that was scary enough, certainly – but of what he was planning to do. He couldn't dance around it any longer.

He just didn't know what he was going to say.

Chafing his hands together for warmth – _how_ on _earth_ had he managed to forget gloves? – Ray tilted his head back up to consider the sky. Only a few stars had braved the choking Chicago smog to shine their light down on the city.

Christmas _was_ supposed to be a time of goodwill towards men – well Benny had _that_ covered – and a time for miracles to happen.

"I could sure use one now." He muttered, finally striding up the steps into the building.

ooooooo

"I know I have my eyes closed, but I can still tell you're staring at me, Dief. For the last time, you are _not_ having the bed. Now go to sleep, it's late."

He knew very well he wouldn't be able to sleep. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw Ray's face, accusing and angry. Slate green eyes burning into his own as he yelled at the hapless Mountie. _Stupid, reckless, idiotic…did he have a death wish?_

"Well, no, Ray, I can't honestly say that I do…." Fraser remembered his confused reply. He had tried to explain that he knew the man would shoot him, thereby enabling Ray to disarm him, but Ray hadn't wanted to hear it. Fraser had never seen him so angry.

The transfer was for the best. He had come to the conclusion that he and Ray were essentially incompatible. There was just no helping it. He'd go in to the Consulate tomorrow morning, inform Inspector Thatcher that he was taking a week's leave, hand her his transfer request and get out of the city.

The thought made him inexplicably sad.

Staring at the dark ceiling, Fraser could still see Ray's face, like an afterimage burned into his eyes, making him close his eyes tightly once again. _Ray_….

He knew very well what he would miss.

ooooooo

"Hey, Benny, you asleep?" Ray called quietly, knocking softly on the door as he pushed it open. He could see his erstwhile companion laying on his excuse for a bed through the darkness. He shivered – the window was open, and it was freezing.

Tiptoeing carefully past Dief, Ray leaned over the bed. Fraser's eyes were tightly closed, a frown creasing his forehead. Smiling softly, Ray rose to close the window. Behind him, Benton stirred from his slumber.

"Ray…?" he sounded sleepy, puzzled.

"Oh hey, Benny. " Ray jumped, caught off guard. "The, ah, door was open, so I thought…we need to talk Benny."

"You thought we needed to talk because my door was open?" Fraser sat up, pushing away the thin sheets.

Ray groaned. "Oh don't start…"

"Start _what_, Ray?"

"Look, just forget I said anything, all right?" Ray moved back to sit on the edge of the bed, painfully aware that Fraser was shirtless next to him. "Aren't you cold?"

Fraser tilted his head, considering. "Not really, no."

Ray breathed out slowly. Infuriating, he really was…. "Look, Fraser, this partnership thing we have going here…"

Fraser's expression cleared. "Oh, there's no need to worry about that, Ray, it's all taken care of. I'll be submitting my transfer request to Inspector Thatcher in the morning, and I should be out of your hair by the end of the week."

Ray blinked hard, struck dumb by this pronouncement. "You're leaving Chicago?"

"Well, Ray, after careful consideration, and some personal inflection, added to what I know of you from the years we've worked together, on top of my own upbringing, well, aside from the years that I spent in –"

"Just get to the point, Fraser."

"Well… I've come to the conclusion that we're completely and utterly incompatible, Ray. In fact, I can't see how we've remained friends for so long. You find me constantly and consistently irritating, and I…" he trailed off.

"And you…?" Ray prompted him.

"It's not important. What _is_ important is that my presence in Chicago is obviously affecting your personal happiness, Ray, so the only conceivable solution is for me to leave."

_Leave?_ In all of his arguments with Fraser – both to the Mountie's face and imaginary conversations – Ray had never considered that option. He didn't know what he'd do without Fraser, it was just unthinkable. To walk into work in the morning, overtired and bad-tempered, without the sight of the tall, handsome man in the glaringly red suit that he looked so good in… to spend a day without correcting any Canadian mangling of American sayings….

"…I know that you must be sick of correcting my frequent malapropisms…"

…Who would find those ridiculous, unbelievable cases for him to solve….

"…And I know full well that you're sick of my, ah, 'do-gooding', I believe you called it…."

…Who would make him laugh at himself, freely and unfettered…?

"I know I annoy you Ray, and I am terribly sorry for all the trouble I've caused you…"

…Who would be his best friend…?

"I still consider you to be my closest friend, despite all the…"

Most importantly, what would he do without the man he'd fallen in love with? How would he get through a day of scummy criminals who inspired the worst in him, the taunts of Huey and Dewey, and the yelling of Welsh without being able to sneak sidelong glances at Fraser? Stolen glimpses while they drove, pretending to be looking in his rear-view mirror, to see that familiar profile, that heart breaking smile. Fraser thought he was a bad driver, but truth be told, he just could never pay attention to the road.

God, he had it bad. He couldn't even go to sleep without seeing Benny's face before his eyes. The thought of him actually _leaving_ was just… impossible, like trying to picture what happened after you died. Impossible.

"Fraser," he interrupted his friend's explanation quickly, placing his hands on the Mountie's shoulders. Fraser flinched and moved back.

Instantly contrite, Ray snatched his hands away. "What is it, Benny?"

Fraser smiled sheepishly. "It's nothing Ray… just your hands are cold."

Ray chuckled. "Well, you might not have noticed, Mr. I'm-so-tough-Canadian, but it _is_ rather cold outside, especially when you're walking, without gloves, I might add."

Fraser laughed incredulously. "You? Walk somewhere?"

Ray scowled at him. "What's that supposed to mean, Benny?"

"Well, I didn't mean to offend you Ray, it's just that…"

"Yeah?"

"Well, you hardly ever chose to walk anywhere."

"Yeah, well, Frannie's borrowing my car, so I had to-"

"You _let_ Francesca drive your car? Are you ill, Ray?"

"I think I must be, coming here tonight if you're just going to argue with me."

"I'm not arguing."

"Yes you _are_…ok, look." Ray pressed his hands against his temples, briefly. "Just shut up and listen to me for a second, ok?"

"All right."

"The Yank's up to something, son, I wouldn't trust him."

Fraser refrained from glancing over his shoulder at the sound of his father's voice. Honestly, the man had no sense of timing. He would wait until Ray had finished what he wanted to say before telling him the _real_ reason he wanted to leave Chicago, although he can picture how _that _conversation would go… telling a sarcastic cop that he couldn't get him out of his head, that he thought he could possibly be in…

"Oh, don't go there, son. That'll only lead to trouble, take my word on it."

"Oh will you be quiet?" he muttered under his breath.

"No, Benny, I will not be quiet. This is really important to me" Was the guy even listening to a word he was saying? "Listen, Benny, I don't want you to leave Chicago, all right? Believe me, you have absolutely no bearing on my happiness –" Oh _shit_, had that come out wrong.

Fraser opened his mouth to say something, stopped, and contented himself with a shrug. He could feel his expression betraying him, and schooled the hurt into impassivity.

Ray could see he had hurt the guy. Those clear blue eyes, shadowed as they were in the darkness of the room, radiated sadness, piercing him deeply. He just wasn't cut out for this sort of thing. Too much was bottled up inside of him, and he was afraid to let it out. He wanted to kiss the guy, to lean in, wrap his arms around those shoulders, and just kiss away all the hurt and worries that he knew Fraser kept bottled up inside. But at what cost? He didn't want to lose what friendship he had in his greed to get more.

"Ray…why _are_ you here? It's Christmas Eve, shouldn't you be spending it with your family?" Benton deliberately made his voice light, allowing only polite interest and concern to colour his tone.

Ray looked at him in silence for a long moment, wondering. Was it worth the risk?

Hell yes.

He shifted closer to the bewildered Mountie; close enough to feel the heat from his body. "Well, you know Benny, Christmas is a time to be with those we care about the most, isn't it?"

Fraser blinked rapidly, processing this response. He couldn't concentrate, his gaze shifting back and forth between meeting Ray's amused green eyes to staring at his lips. He couldn't breathe suddenly, hardly daring to hope….

"Well, Ray… ah…I should, ah, think that…umm…ahem, your _family_ would be the, ah, ones that you…"

Ray smirked suppressing a laugh at Fraser's ramblings.

"Of course, in the Inuit culture, there's, ah…hah, a rather, ah…_interesting_, ah, ceremony that takes place… if you would care to…hear…?"

They were only inches apart now. Ray could feel Fraser's breath warm on his cheeks.

"Benny?" he whispered.

"Yes Ray?"

Closer…a gap of a few centimetres separating them. Ray looked right into Fraser's eyes, cool slate green meeting clear sky blue. A miracle of perfection. He smiled.

"Shut up."

And leaning in, he closed that gap.

END.

Ok, so it's not all that great… this was intended to be a really short fic, but once again, my propensity for overindulging in just about every detail that comes to mind – I mean, where the hell did that convo with Francesca come from – resulted in this being a little drawn out. Apologies for that.

Please leave a review, but be kind, this is the first Due South fic I've posted!!


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